Page 20 of Sing for Me
I play my part. I make a joke. I offer her a charming smile. But I'm not here.
My gaze shifts over the room.
There she is, the "shy" girl from upstairs.
She's cute—chestnut hair, brown eyes, long legs. Fuck that's a short skirt. And she's wearing sneakers. Those legs are all her.
She looks as out of place as I feel. Not just her casual shoes, but the tortured expression on her face.
Her eyes meet mine and her cheeks turn red.
She's picturing me naked.
And god damn is it showing in the flush spreading over her chest.
I'm not about to let her get away with thatOops, I can't believe I walked in on your trystthing.
She forces her gaze to the floor, then makes her way through the crowd, to the kitchen.
I excuse myself and follow her.
"You're not big on respecting people's privacy, huh?" I ask.
She turns and gives me a long, slow once-over. This time, she manages to keep her gaze off my crotch.
She clears her throat as she makes eye contact. "No, I'm not big on alcohol. I can't find anything else to drink."
Sounds like Tom.
Sounds like bullshit too, but on the off chance it's not...
Well, I'm not about to fuck with someone's recovery.
I make a point of brushing the back of my hand against her shoulders as I pull open the fridge.
Her eyelids press together.
She takes her tongue between her teeth.
She wants me.
Badly.
I drop my voice to something low and seductive. "Help yourself."
"Thanks."
She grabs a water bottle and holds it to her chest. Her eyes stay glued to mine. They're going wide. She's working something out.
Realizing something.
It spreads all over her face.
Then it stops.
She stops.
She's just staring at me.
